


man of constant sorrow

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crimes & Criminals, Great Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I am a man of constant sorrow / I've seen trouble all my dayTristan came from wealth and privilege, but he's an outlaw now. When his past comes back to haunt him, how will he come through?[Beleg/Túrin Great Depression AU.]





	man of constant sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a offshoot of a hypothetical fic meme on DW, and I realized it could fit into my old WWI 'verse, so here it is.

Beau had met Tris’ father in the war, but only briefly before the latter got killed. Being an honest man, he didn’t have many interesting or poignant stories to share -- he said only that Hal had seemed like a honorable sort of man, and everyone around him had loved him. Tris knew that to be true from Ma, though she’d emphasized the honor more than the likability. 

That sort of thing was important to her -- and to Beau too. Be a good man, they’d both told him, in different ways and in different times. Honor your father the best way you know how. 

With that in mind, Tris had to acknowledge that his current occupation: breaking into first class railway compartments and robbing their passengers of everything they held dear, wasn’t exactly what either his mother nor his mentor had had in mind for him. 

But hell. Tristan, who’d never been all that great in school and certainly didn’t have the airs and social graces needed to be a decent foster-son to the wealthiest man in the state, much less Beau's partner in taking care of problems associated with being the wealthiest man in the state. But robbing from the rich? Well, he found that he had just the right skills needed for the job. 

Maybe he hadn’t been born to be a gentleman after all -- maybe he’d been born to be a criminal. And that was fine by him -- as long as his mother didn’t know. 

He robbed other places too -- just that afternoon, he and the gang had gotten the drop on the payroll to the Mairon Chemicals Company. He took his share of the loot and headed off to the nearest Hooverville, careful to keep his face hidden by a scarf and a hat. People so down on their luck might not mind it when a stranger stuffed cash into their pockets, but they sure would remember him. 

Once he’d gotten away from the crush of people -- thanking him or just asking questions, he went to a five and dime to buy a bag of hard candy and a soda. It was that acid sweetness that quickly turned sour on his tongue when he came back to the hideout and saw an unfamiliar black coupe parked outside. 

Andy was waiting for him when he came in. Andy had been a vet too, but the experience had broken him -- if he hadn’t been broken already. He had a nervous air about him -- agitated, as likely to stab you as he was to do anything else. He smirked when Tris came in. “Got something for you, Boss.” 

The last word he said with a sort of sarcastic caress, which Tris chose to ignore. 

“Whose car is that out there?” Tris demanded. 

“C’mon. We’ve got him in the cellar. Some cop that came lookin’ for you.” 

As Tris went down the steps, Andy breathing down his back, he didn’t rightly know what he was supposed to do. He didn’t like killing, didn’t relish it like some of the others did. Sometimes, it was necessary. He wanted to survive more than he wanted to be fair. 

But -- there was sound of heavy breathing at the bottom of the steps. Andy and boys had really worked that cop over. Tris would have to make a decision about what to do about him. 

Andy had an oil lantern that he handed to Tris, who took it and almost dropped it. Even with the blood-smeared face, he would recognize those grey eyes anywhere. Beau was looking at him, almost like he didn’t recognize him. One of his eyes had swollen shut. His mouth opened for a moment before the words leaked out. 

“Tristan? Is that you?” 

Tris’ mouth went entirely dry. 

“Well, Boss?” Andy said, seeming to drink in Tristan’s dread and horror. “What do we do with him now?”


End file.
